


Basic-ally Perfect

by SpartanGuard



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan January Joy, Embedded Images, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 04:24:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17419061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpartanGuard/pseuds/SpartanGuard
Summary: Emma challenges her boyfriend to embrace the fact that he's basic. Which Killian does—enthusiastically. And it just might be the hottest thing she's ever seen. (Inspired by @brosbeingbasic on Instagram; for CS January Joy 2019)





	Basic-ally Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> When I discovered @brosbeingbasic on Instagram, I knew there was an AU waiting to happen. And the fandom has needed some smut. Put the two together = a bunch of little smutlets!
> 
> Also: the original images in here all originally came from said Instagram account; I've linked to the originals, but hope you enjoy my mediocre photoshopping!

Sometimes, with some things, Emma never quite knew what was coming. She could spot a lie a mile away and had yet to have a skip evade her, but other things—personal things—always seemed to hit her out of the blue.

Like, for example, her amazing boyfriend Killian. She hadn’t seen that coming at all and yet, here they were three years later, living together and probably going to do the happily-ever-after thing. (She really never thought that would happen.)

More specifically, though, she never saw the events of one particular night spiraling far larger than either of them could have predicted. It all started when Killian arrived home a bit later than usual to their too-large house in their sometimes too-small town, and barely paused to give her a kiss on the cheek before flopping down in a huff on the sofa next to her.

“Bad day?” she asked, fully aware that the short answer was “yes,” but she wanted to hear it from him.

“Not necessarily bad, just long,” he answered, rubbing his eyes and undoing the top few buttons on his shirt. “Someone left a box of puppies overnight, so getting them settled was interesting to say the least; David had to rush out at noon because Leo got sick; and I was bloody late getting in because of all the little basic, wannabe Instagram models taking their damn selfies with their damn Starbucks.”

She had to smirk a bit. Not at the first couple parts—those did suck, and she had no idea how he managed to hold down the animal shelter single-handedly. But that last one… “Uh, didn’t I like a picture of your Starbucks cup today on Instagram?”

“Maybe? I can’t remember.”

“And, uh, weren’t you wearing a plaid shirt this morning?”

“Aye, until one of the new puppies decided it would make a fine chew toy.”

She bit her lip to hold back a chuckle. “And aren’t you the one who made us late to Robin and Regina’s New Year’s party because you were perfecting the wing on your eyeliner?”

He looked over at her with a raised eyebrow. “Aye, but that was ages ago; what are you getting at?”

She couldn’t help but snort. “Nothing; just seems a little hypocritical to complain about girls being ‘basic’ when you’re not far from it yourself.”

He sat up straight. “I beg your pardon? Did you just call me _basic_?”

She matched his posture defiantly. “I did.”

“I don’t resemble anything of the sort!” He seemed fairly offended, but Emma couldn’t help but tease; he was kind of asking for it.

“Come on; it’s not like it’s a bad thing,” she countered, leaning back against the couch. “Do I need to go on a feminist rant about the negativity associated with that term, or do you know it already?”

“No, no—I get it,” he conceded. “But...I’m a guy.”

Emma cast him a sidelong glance. “And? No one’s questioning your masculinity, nor should they. It’s nothing to be ashamed of; accept your basicness. I do.”

He was pouting now. “My basicness or yours?”

“Both,” she answered, then placed a peck on his cheek. “But it sounds like you could stand to embrace yours a bit more.”

His ever-expressive eyebrows perked up at that, and she almost thought she could see the wheels turning in his brain behind his blue eyes. “Would you call that...a challenge, love?”

Oh, no. A _challenge_. He could never back down from one of those. What was going through that head of his?

But the more important question was: did she or did she not want to see? The man had come up with some daring things in the past—the least terrifying being the night he played strip poker with the boys; the most being the time he somehow survived a jump from the top of his ship’s mast into the sea below.

This couldn’t be that bad, though—could it?

“Yeah,” she said slowly, smiling. “It is.”

His pensive look slowly morphed into a wry grin. “Well, then. Let the fun begin.”

* * *

[ (Original) ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.instagram.com%2Fp%2FBp9x-NOl_uC%2F&t=NTRiMDMxY2ZhMzYzYzk3NWRiYjQ0ZWFlMWFiODMwYzc0Yzk2MDRmOSx0VUMxeGxmdQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AAIVVz7JVMiWjr3POJwmhzQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fspartanguard.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F181986125990%2Fcsjj-basic-ally-perfect&m=1)

Emma snorted aloud when she saw the picture: Killian was definitely embracing the basicness. She supposed that one perk to running an animal shelter was constant access to prop dogs (and maybe using the promotion to get them adopted at the same time), but the flannel shirt was all his. And she was pretty sure Granny made him that scarf for Christmas. The Uggs were too small to be anyone but Belle’s, and the flowers were probably borrowed from Mary Margaret, but the Starbucks was his and his alone.

Then she saw the hashtag: _#brosbeingbasic_. And laughed so hard she drew stares from the people in the park around her; she just prayed one of them wasn’t the skip she was tracking.

Until she looked up to see that one, indeed, was, and had to pocket her phone before the guy ran off.

But, after she got the guy and was headed home, she kept staring at and thinking about that pic. It was obviously an exaggeration, but it was still Killian—just a little softer. And while the man was ridiculously sexy at all times and could get her going with just a glance, there was something about this look that hit her in a new way—a way that she really, really liked.

And she made sure he knew it when she got home.

This was gonna be fun.

* * *

A few days later, she’d barely gotten in the door when Killian was shouting at her from their bedroom upstairs.

“You home, love? I could use a hand.”

She chuckled; it was his favorite pun, considering he only had one hand. It was rare that slowed him down, though, so she wondered what was up.

And then she arrived in the bedroom and saw exactly what it was.

[ (original) ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.instagram.com%2Fp%2FBQx9BsCAlWY%2F&t=YzYwNzNmM2UzOWU0NmY3YzQ4MGM4YTUxOWU3NzRiODc1NzY3NWRiZCx0VUMxeGxmdQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AAIVVz7JVMiWjr3POJwmhzQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fspartanguard.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F181986125990%2Fcsjj-basic-ally-perfect&m=1)

“Where the hell did you get that?” she asked, both stunned and amused at the sight of him wrapped up in a mermaid-tail blanket.

“Borrowed from Ariel,” he shrugged, then tossed his phone at her. “Take my picture.”

“Is this more basicness?” She smirked as she flipped to the camera.

“Yup,” he answered shortly, popping the ‘p’. “Hold on.” He grabbed some ungodly large phone case shaped like a shell and posed, propping it up with his prosthetic hand. “Go ahead.”

She snapped a few pics in quick succession, wondering how he’d caption this one, then hopped up on the bed to pass it back. “How’re those?”

He swiped through the photos quickly, then turned to give her a kiss. “Perfect, darling. Thank you.”

She wrapped an arm around his blanket-covered waist to continue things. She was starting to understand the mermaid fantasy, even if this was a far cry from it. But still—bare chest, hot guy, exotic fish tail? Damn.

He pulled away eventually to catch his breath. “And to what do I owe this pleasure?” he panted.

“Tell me—what do you have on under this?” she breathed back.

“Not much.”

She quickly straddled his hips. “Good.”

* * *

She must still be dreaming. Or maybe the coffee hadn’t kicked in just yet. Those could be the only explanations as to what she was seeing right in front of her face in their kitchen

Because why else would her boyfriend start parading around the house in her underwear?

(And why the hell did her underwear fit him?)

“Morning, love,” he said, completely casually. “I wanna mix things up. How about pizza for breakfast?”

[ (original) ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.instagram.com%2Fp%2FBQbCkAaFovp%2F&t=NWFjNWQ4MjVlMTcxZDk0MzI5ZGQ1YTNmN2MzOTdkODFlNjU2ZjVjNCx0VUMxeGxmdQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AAIVVz7JVMiWjr3POJwmhzQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fspartanguard.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F181986125990%2Fcsjj-basic-ally-perfect&m=1)

“The fuck?” was all she could reply.

“It’s not _that_ strange a concept,” he retorted. “Rather _basic_ , wouldn’t you say?” He glanced over his shoulder to wink at her as he started up the microwave.

“Oh my god, it’s too early for this,” she groaned, and rested her head on her arms.

“Come now, love—wasn’t it you who told me to embrace this?”

“That was before I knew you were going to get my lingerie involved.”

“I had no idea how comfortable it was, though. And I dare say I look good in it; don’t you?”

His tone had turned dark and lewd. And yeah, his ass probably looked better than hers in them. She lifted her head to see him leaning against the counter, arms crossed and a cocky grin on his face.

Then her eyes drifted down to the generous bulge that looked out of place but entirely tempting in those panties, which were hanging low on his hips, and the unhindered view it gave of his strong, hairy thighs.

Well, fuck. He was right.

And she was going to have to do something about it.

Almost angrily, she stood up, nearly toppling her chair, and marched over to him with an intense stare that he matched with a flirtatious one.

Not breaking eye contact, she placed her fingers on his thighs and started to scratch up and down them, brushing through the coarse hair and tracing the muscles beneath.

His eyes closed and his head fell back under her ministrations and he let out a sigh of bliss. She took that opportunity to place kisses on his neck, particularly his little constellation of freckles that she loved to tease, and pressed herself closer to him—close enough to be aware of just what was going on in those panties.

With one hand, she dug her fingers into the soft, short hairs at the nape of his neck and pulled his head back to face her, and quickly found his lips with hers. Her other hand drifted up and around his hip to grab his pert, perfect rear through the soft cotton.

The microwave started beeping in the background, but anything other than the growing heat between the two of them didn’t register.

Maybe Emma had spoken too soon with this challenge—maybe she, too, was about to learn some things about herself and her desires.

* * *

The image popped up on her Instagram feed while she was out with the girls and he was having a guys night. And it was a pretty clear indication of what to expect when she got home.

[(original)](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.instagram.com%2Fp%2F8qjG8fg475%2F&t=MGJiYWE4NmZkNmM2M2FiNTMwMjEyZWE1YWMzYzA4N2UzYzhlM2Q4ZSx0VUMxeGxmdQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AAIVVz7JVMiWjr3POJwmhzQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fspartanguard.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F181986125990%2Fcsjj-basic-ally-perfect&m=1)

He was obviously never one of those guys to shy away from showing emotion, and his male friends were no exception to that (even if Robin looked slightly confused). But ever since the hashtag had progressed to a full-fledged account (@brosbeingbasic), with a growing number of followers, she’d noticed that the limits to what he’d do publicly were diminishing. Though he was definitely being motivated by the likes.

So while she was positive he’d been sober when he posted the picture, that was hours ago—and she was already in bed when he finally shambled in.

She could hear him trudge up the steps to their bedroom with only minor stumbles, bursting through the door wearing a wide, drunken grin and his plaid shirt askew, allowing easy viewing of his chest hair.

“Ssswannn,” he slurred happily, shuffling to the bed. She set her book aside when he flopped onto the end of the mattress; whatever he was about to do would be far more entertaining than what she’d been reading.

“Did you have fun?” she wondered, already knowing the answer.

“Aye,” he sighed, laying on his back with his eyes closed. But then he opened them and turned to look at her. “But darling, I’m sso hungry now.”

She chuckled. “Oh? What for?”

Awkwardly, he pulled his legs up onto the mattress with the rest of him and got on all fours, a familiar predatory look in his gaze joining the smile on his face. He crawled up towards her until he was practically pinning her down. She could smell the beer on his breath but was too distracted by the way he was licking his lips to complain.

“You, Emma. Just you.”

He didn’t wait for her response before diving into her neck, kissing and laving at the spot where it met her shoulder. Her reply was hardly intelligible anyways—just a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan, her body relaxing and her hand scrambling for the back of his head to keep him there.

She had practically melted into her pillow by the time he came up for air and was certain he’d left a significant mark behind. His hungry look hadn’t dissipated though, and he wordlessly started to kiss his way down her chest, not caring that most of it was covered by a thin tshirt (that did nothing to diffuse the heat of his lips). When he got to where the blanket sat on her waist, he threw it back, leaving her bare legs exposed to the cool air.

But when he fumbled for the waistband of her pajama shorts, she knew she’d be warming up fast, and went ahead and helped him get them off.

For a moment, he sat on his knees between her open legs, giving her a weak glare. “I wasgonna unwrap that,” he pouted, but then shrugged and practically threw himself down chest-first on the bed.

His hot breath on her wet sex sent the best kind of chill through her. “Ssssoo deliciouss,” he swooned, then went right ahead and took a taste with a slow slide of his tongue. In his drunken state, there were probably more substantial things for him to eat than her, but who was she to deny a hungry man?

Her back arched as he continued to drag his tongue through her folds in a completely unhurried manner, flicking her clit with the tip of his tongue at the end of each pass, and his slightly overgrown scruff deliciously scratched at her thighs. Her release was building just as gradually, and she soon had one breast in hand, gently squeezing her straining nipple, while the other found its way into Killian’s messy, dark locks.

She got so lost in the easy, free feeling of slowly coming undone that it took a bit for her to realize that nothing was happening anymore. The tingling sensation that had slowly been taking over had dissipated, and she was suddenly aware of how cold she was.

And then she heard snoring coming from between her legs. She sighed and lifted her head enough to glance down, and there he was, passed out, leaning his head against her thigh, his thick lashes firmly resting against the apples of his cheeks.

Well, apparently she’d have to handle the rest of this on her own. (But if she did that to the memory of Killian wearing her panties...well, that was her secret for now.)

* * *

“A smash cake? Seriously? How old are you?”

“As the cake clearly says, 33. Come on, Swan—all the cool girls are doing it.”

His arched eyebrow was the only thing distracting her from the rest of the scene in front of her: a (rather expensive looking) birthday cake, a bottle of Killian’s favorite rum, and her boyfriend clad only in a black tutu with matching briefs (hers, again).

It was ridiculous. It was definitely basic. It was insanely hot. And it was giving her ideas. “You’re sure this is how you want to celebrate your birthday?”

His responding smirk indicated he was having some, too. “Completely.”

She could already feel the heat building within. “Alright, then. Smash away.”

Despite Killian being a grown-ass man, frosting quickly got everywhere, particularly his chest—which was apparently the logical place to wipe it before reaching for the bottle. (His prosthesis lay abandoned...somewhere, after he decided he didn’t want to deal with that potential cleanup.) It was spread over his collarbones and edging in on his perfect array of chest hair—though somehow, his beard was still clean, save for a swipe of buttercream on his cheek.

[(original)](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.instagram.com%2Fp%2FBqsiGZsFtWF%2F&t=NjQ5YzQzNWNhNDY4YWI4OWEzNTIzNGVhOWQxNzM0NzkyNDI5NTMyYSx0VUMxeGxmdQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AAIVVz7JVMiWjr3POJwmhzQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fspartanguard.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F181986125990%2Fcsjj-basic-ally-perfect&m=1)

She took several shots before pausing, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he took a long swig of rum. He set the bottle aside and looked up at her, ready to pose again, but stopped and tilted his head when he saw she’d put the phone aside.

“What is it?” he asked softly as she came over and settled on the floor next to him.

Wordlessly, she reached for the cake, swiped a bit of frosting, and then placed it on his mouth. Before he could say anything else, she kissed it off of him, being sure to lick his lips clean—and then kept going.

She traced his frosted collarbone with her tongue, the sweet taste of the icing combined with the saltiness of his skin proving to be too divine to resist—and a precursor to what she had planned. He was practically purring under her, the vibrations of a low moan sounding through his chest and under her palm, which lay over his heart—and the other patch of frosting.

After popping up just enough for another quick kiss on his lips, she turned her attention to the other side, cleaning up his mess and then making more of her own: another dab of frosting on his exposed (and pert) nipple. Which she promptly licked off, drawing another soft moan from him.

“Lay back,” she said, a bit more commanding than intended, but he didn’t protest as he reclined on the wood floor, propping himself up on his forearms.

“What are you—ohhh.” His question died as soon as she brushed the back of her hand against his bulging briefs, and the hardening length under them. She teased him a bit more like that, until he was flat on his back and starting to pant.

Then she dipped a couple fingers under the edge of the brief—not touching the tutu at all—and carefully slid it down his hips, thankful for the sleek material that slipped right under his perfect rear with just a bit of a tug, and freed his straining erection.

He sighed at the momentary relief but she didn’t give him much respite before drawing a stripe up his shaft with her tongue, lingering just below the tip, making his breath stutter. She repeated the move and then took him in her mouth, sucking hard as she drew up the length of him and trying not to smile when she saw the strain in his abs from his efforts to not buck into her mouth.

Again she went down, taking him deeper this time and tasting the salty-sweet of his precum; the frosting did taste a bit better, but she was hardly one to complain when the birthday blowjob was her idea. Or when the mewling sounds he was now making were going straight to her own arousal.

She kept going and his whimpers turned almost inaudible, which she knew from experience meant he was close to release. She slowed her pace just a bit to try and drag it out, gripping his firm thighs to keep him in place and this time unable to hold back the smirk at how tense they felt under her touch.

She bobbed up and down one, two, three more times; his still-sugary fingers found his way into her loose hair; and then she felt him still underneath her with a different kind of strain.

Emma replaced her mouth with her hand as Killian came, stroking him as the ropes of his release spilled out. They already had a mess to clean up; what was adding more to it?

He was laid out flat, panting, when he finally went soft in her hand. She grabbed a nearby napkin and cleaned up what she could easily see, including her fingers, before tossing it aside and then shifting up closer to his chest and laying down to tuck herself into his side.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he breathed, “but what was that for?”

“Am I not allowed to show the man I love just how much I do in honor of his birthday?”

“Well, of course,” he replied, then turned to look at her. “But did you get any good pictures before that?”

She groaned and playfully slapped the last bit of frosting on his chest. “Really? Of course I did. You’re so basic.”

“As we’ve established,” he chuckled, then placed a kiss on her temple. “Now,” he started, then reached for the cake again. “Back to my dessert,” he said in a low voice, placing a dollop of frosting on her nose.

* * *

“Swan?”

It was getting to the point now that Emma automatically started laughing whenever he called for her that way—not quite a “come hither”, but somewhere between that and “come hold my beer”. And almost always required her mediocre photography skills (though they were definitely improving over the course of this challenge/adventure). And generally ended in sex.

World Naked Gardening Day has been particularly enjoyable. As had last weekend in Regina’s pool, even if he spent the bulk of it being inappropriate with a swan-shaped inflatable rather than his actual Swan. At least he made it up to her later. In Regina’s poolside shower (but no one tell her that).

Which is where he was right now. Well, theirs, obviously, but still—this was a first. He’d spent the morning doing a deep clean at the shelter and made a beeline for the bathroom when he got home, and the inordinately long amount of time he’d spent there hadn’t drawn her attention at first.

But now she was practically racing up the stairs to see what he was up to this time—and she was not disappointed.

[(original)](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.instagram.com%2Fp%2FBe4KECllBpt%2F&t=MGI4MDgwOGY5OWRkNWM2ODczYmEwZThiYmI0YjZjNjZjNzMyMzE0Nix0VUMxeGxmdQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AAIVVz7JVMiWjr3POJwmhzQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fspartanguard.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F181986125990%2Fcsjj-basic-ally-perfect&m=1)

Covered in artfully arranged suds and sitting in what looked like a terribly uncomfortable position in the tub, with his legs up against the wall and a towel that he didn’t need wrapped around his head.

But then she saw the cucumbers on both his eyes and his nipples and nearly fell over laughing.

He, somehow, kept a nearly straight face through all of it. “Are you done yet?” he tried to complain once she finally caught her breath (even though she had collapsed on the floor by then), but his smirk betrayed him—he got the exact reaction he wanted.

“Where did you even find cucumbers?” was all she could answer, but she did grab his phone from the counter.

“Unlike _some_ people, I actually eat vegetables from time to time,” he threw back indignantly while she found her perch on the opposite edge of the tub from where he lay.

“Do you want me to take your picture or not?”

“Oh darling, I want so many things from you,” he effused, grinning enough to almost knock down one of the cucumber slices on his eyes. He quickly fixed it and settled into a relaxed expression, his silence indicating it was photo time.

She snapped a few, tweaking the light settings a bit, but as she saw the suds slowly sliding down his hips and threatening to expose some strategically covered areas, her thoughts headed elsewhere.

As quietly as she could, careful not to slip on the wet porcelain, she slipped back out of the tub, returned the phone to the vanity, and quickly stripped.

“Emma? You still there?” He moved to take one of the cucumbers off an eye, but she gripped his hand from behind to stop him, and silently stepped into the tub, one foot on either side of his hips.

“Love?” His tone was more curious than concerned.

She squatted down and then shifted her weight forward so she was on her knees, then gently set her weight back on his legs. She didn’t stop him from clearing his eyes then, smiling when she saw them go wide at the sight before him.

“And here I thought I was the one with the surprise,” he quipped, hand and wrist finding her hips and slowly sliding up.

“Two can play that game,” she replied casually, picked up one of the nipple cucumbers, and took a bite. “Not bad,” she assessed, even if it did taste a bit like her shower gel (which he’d been known to use on more than one occasion—hence, part of why they were here in the first place). “But you know what tastes better?”

“Hm?”

Leaning forward, she shoved the towel off his head, which left his hair a riotous mess. Digging her fingers into it probably didn’t help, but she could never resist those silky locks, damp or not. And then she pressed her lips to his and yeah—he tasted much better than a soapy cucumber. He tasted warm and sweet and a tiny bit spicy, like the fancy rum he so loved.

It was hard to be careful of how hard she was pressing when his mouth was always so delectable, and when her back was starting to ache a bit from the awkward angle she had to bend at to reach him. But she accidentally pushed a little too hard against him in a vain attempt to flatten herself, and in turn made him sputter and cough.

“Sorry, love—my neck—” he tried to explain, gesturing at the way it was situated right on the edge of the tub.

“‘S fine,” she breathed and sat up, already onto the next thing.

Somehow, she managed to climb over him without getting a knee or an elbow somewhere it shouldn’t be, and once she was seated next to him, guided his ankles down from the wall.

He caught on to where she was headed. “I love the way you think, darling,” he said as he slid the rest of the way down the tub; she found her way back to her knees as he slithered his body between them and then settled down on his hips. It was a tight fit, but she couldn't really complain when she felt his erection brushing against her rear end.

“One more thing,” she murmured, then rose back up a bit to reach for the knobs. The first burst of water from the showerhead was a bit cool, receiving a curse from Killian, but it warmed up fast. And she picked up right where they left off.

This felt much better, and the brush of his chest hair against her suds-lubricated breasts was divine. The water falling over them was the perfect backdrop and added just the right amount of extra sensory texture, and counteracted the cool porcelain.

She had no idea where the other cucumber had disappeared to, which was quite possibly the oddest thing she’d ever thought during sex and not what one usually considers when scratching their fingers over their lover’s chest. But it allowed that every time she grazed his nipple, he arched his pelvis up to her, letting her know just how aroused he was.

Her attention switched from his lips to his warm neck, where the floral scent of her body wash was even stronger. While paying him back for the hicky from a few months ago, she put her weight on her forearms and lifted her hips to shift back.

Satisfied with her handiwork—and the heavy way he was panting—she came up for a bit of air herself. “Ready for more?”

“Please,” he sighed.

That was all the answer she needed to reach back and grip his hardened length, stroking it a few times, line it up with her entrance, and sink down.

There was always that first moment when they came together that held both a bit of relief and a rise in tension as she adjusted to the fit of him within her. She loved it, nearly as much as she loved him. It was a little compounded by the tight fit of her legs between him and the sides of the narrow tub, but those things she noticed later—she was too taken by the feel of him.

For a moment, she just enjoyed everything she was feeling, with so many sensations hitting her at once. But then that need for more overtook her as it always did, and she slowly started to move on top of Killian. Tiny shifts at first, to make sure they were secure where they were positioned (and which were still enough to stoke her arousal), but slowly growing faster and longer.

At some point, she noticed she was gripping Killian’s shoulder with one hand and the side of the tub with the other, while his fingers were holding her hip almost hard enough to bruise and his blunted wrist was massaging her side. They were practically holding on for dear life.

The closer she got to her release, the shorter her breath and quicker her pulsing got. Underneath her, Killian was moaning with every press and a glance down showed that he wasn’t far, either; she knew what it meant when his eyes were squinted shut but his mouth was wide open—he didn’t even seem to care about ingesting shower water. The stream from overhead hit her more than him, but was enough to make it look like his hair stood on end as it flowed away; Emma took that as evidence of how much she’d wrecked him.

He was trying vainly to match her press for press and hasten their orgasms, but he just couldn’t get the leverage to move. So Emma picked up the speed as much as she dared and then some, feeling that coil of tension inside her verge dangerously close on snapping.

And finally, it did—but not before she felt Killian stutter, pulse, and shout below her as he came, squeezing her side and throwing his other arm against the side of the tub. That triggered her release not a moment later, finally letting her fall over that cascade of bliss, washing over her like the spray of the shower.

She was semi aware of being pulled forward as she came down from her high, and when she finally opened her eyes and let her other senses come back, she was laying on Killian’s chest, wrapped in his arms.

“Still think this was ridiculous?” he asked softly, smirking.

“Yes,” she replied sleepily. But she countered any further protest by wrapping herself around him as much as possible. Sometimes, ridiculous was perfect.

* * *

Emma was casually enjoying a free birthday bearclaw and hot chocolate while on her lunch break at Granny’s diner in town when the notification popped up on her phone: _@brosbeingbasic just posted a photo_.

She was expecting a giggle, and likely to be weirdly aroused (though her threshold for “weird” had definitely diminished). But when the image loaded, her jaw just dropped.

[(original)](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.instagram.com%2Fp%2FBA0xa8xg4-h%2F&t=YTQ3MWMyYWZkN2MwNjY1NTNiMWE5Zjk3ZWM2ZjI1Y2FlZjg3OTM4MCx0VUMxeGxmdQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AAIVVz7JVMiWjr3POJwmhzQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fspartanguard.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F181986125990%2Fcsjj-basic-ally-perfect&m=1)

She didn’t even care that he was borrowing her lingerie yet again; he probably rocked that little black lacey number better than she did. And the unhindered view it gave of his gorgeous, lean body was gift in an of itself.

It didn’t escape her notice, either, that it was the first pic he’d shared on this account with his blunted wrist intentionally exposed; usually, it was either hidden or he was wearing his prosthesis. The physical scars were long healed, but he was still self conscious about it; it had taken ages for him to even feel comfortable about it with just her. That he was revealing this part of him so publicly  in her honor made her love him a little bit more—a feat she previously found impossible.

“Hey, Granny?” she called out from her perch at the diner’s counter.

“Let me guess: you’re changing your order to go?” Emma looked up from her phone just in time to see the older lady pocketing hers, wearing a wolfish grin. “I’m on it.”

Emma barely even took the time to toss her sandwich in the kitchen when she got home before tearing upstairs to the bedroom. She didn’t even know if he was still home, or if he was alone (because, really, who the hell had taken that picture? Robin? David?), or if he had redressed or anything, but she had to find out.

She burst through the door and to her delight, there he was: reclined across the bed, arms up under his head and legs crossed at the ankles, with a seductive expression that made her finally understand the term “bedroom eyes”.

And her eyes followed his treasure trail down his stomach to where it disappeared in those sinful black briefs, slung low on his hip bones and revealing the cut of his muscles as the fabric gently hugged his ample bulge.

She was still staring, probably with her mouth hanging open (hopefully she wasn’t drooling), when he sat up, stood, and sauntered over. (Oh, how she wished she could see what that looked like from the back.)

“Happy Birthday, love,” he said softly, with a gentle smile that bordered on a smirk as he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, then placed a soft kiss on her temple.

“Damn,” was all she could utter back, suddenly aware of everything that was covering her skin—and how much she wanted it not to be.

As if he could read her mind, he placed hand and wrist around her shoulders under her jacket and slid the sleeves down her arms as he continued to pepper kisses across her cheek and along her jaw, eventually venturing down her neck. After the jacket fell to the floor, he found the edge of her sweater and slipped his fingers beneath it; she shivered at his warm touch as he tugged her top up, dragging her tank top with it.

He let one last kiss linger at the hollow of her throat before pulling the clothes over her head and tossing them aside. “Oh, what’s this?” He was studying her—or, more specifically, her undergarments. “It appears as though we match,” he smirked playfully, brushing his hand over her cream lace bra.

She hummed and wrapped her arms around his bare waist. “It’s almost like we did our shopping at the same place.”

He looked down, chuckling, as his cheeks turned pink. “I hope you don’t mind; they seemed appropriate for the occasion.”

“I think you might wear them better than me, so no worries—I love it. And you.” She went up on her bare toes to kiss him, thankful that she’d ditched her boots and socks downstairs; she barely even had the attention span to remove her skinny jeans at this point.

But he had that covered, apparently, as he deepened the kiss and deftly undid the button on her pants with his fingers, followed by quickly undoing the zipper and then sliding the denim over the curve of her rear. He no doubt enjoyed the texture of the lace over her skin there, too.

Once he got them over her hips, she shimmied out of them as best she could before regrettably breaking the kiss to pull them off. The were forgotten as soon as she dropped them, and all she had to—or could—focus on now was her brilliant boyfriend.

He swiftly picked her up by her rear end and she wrapped her arms and legs around him as he carried her the short distance to their bed. He leaned forward, trying to set her on the mattress, but she was still holding on tight—the warmth of his skin against hers, and the gentle brush of his body hair, was too good a feeling to give up that easily. She arched her abdomen into him to let him know that, as her mouth was still preoccupied with his.

He changed course slightly and smoothly, instead climbing up on the mattress and lowering them both to it. She could tell he was holding himself up somehow to avoid from pressing his full weight on her, but she loved the comforting feeling of being smothered by him, his warmth engulfing her. Even only inches away was too far, so she slid her foot up the back of his leg to bring him closer.

The press of her heel on his ass brought his hips forward to hers, and brought his lace-covered bulge near her own arousal. They both sighed at the contact, and then he pressed against her even harder. The lace added a delicious amount of friction she didn’t think was possible while still clothed—and even more when her straining nipples brushed against his chest hair through the material.

They settled into a lazy pattern, kissing, arching, embracing the other until it really couldn’t be called dry humping anymore; and despite its comfort, the lace had never felt more constraining. She started to wiggle under him, seeking any change in angle that might give her relief from the ache building in her sex, but none was to be had.

“What do you need, love?” His voice was barely there. “Anything—it’s yours.”

“You,” she breathed.

Placing one last kiss on her lips, he pulled his left arm out from under her and sat back on his haunches, taking in her wrecked appearance, no doubt: chest heaving, skin flushed, legs spread. She could see the desire and love in his hooded gaze and she’d be lying if she didn’t take a moment to soak in his equally aroused appearance—the black lace hid nothing.

He reached forward to tuck his fingers inside the waistband of her panties and started to work them down around her hips—painfully slow, it seemed, but that was only because she was growing impatient. Finally, they were off, and she kicked them who-knows-where.

Then Killian stared down at his pair, seemingly unsure of how to proceed. But she had an idea.

Not wanting to waste any more time, she quickly sat up and grabbed his hips to let him know she was in control. She mimicked him in reaching below the waistband, grabbing his thick member carefully and extracting it—and only it. “How’s this?” she asked, stroking his cock as it now hung over the edge of the panties.

He breathed deep. “Unusual—but not bad. If that’s what you want.”

That’s what this whole challenge was about, right—accepting your likes and desires? “Yeah, I do.”

“Alright then.” Without warning, he pounced on her, flattening her against the bed again and bringing his erection right where she needed him.

She moaned into his mouth as he kissed and pinned her down, until he abruptly sat back up, length in hand. She hooked her leg around him again, silently letting him know where she needed him, and he didn’t hesitate to get himself ready, find her entrance, and press in.

Her head fell back at the feel of him within her, glorious as always. She held him tightly there, still loving the feel of lace on his ass—the perfect soft complement to his hard muscles and planes. Because that was why she fell in love with him: the tough and the soft, the hard edges and the sweetness inside.

She was pulled from her fluffy thoughts by his hand lightly cupping her chin and bringin her eyes to his. “You are so magnificent, so stunning, my beautiful Swan, and I adore you so much.”

She was used to his over-the-top declarations of love, but everything about this one set it apart. “I love you too. So much.” (She wasn’t as good with words as him, but he knew what she meant.)

Then, slowly, he began to move, pulling back and pressing forward so languidly she almost didn’t notice. He continued at the same unhurried pace, kissing her all over, massaging her breasts, letting his hands wander all over her smooth skin while hers did the same to the soft spanse of his back.

It was the most blissfull forever as they made slow, sweet love, ever so gradually increasing their tempo, until Emma was nearly at the precipice of release without realizing she’d gotten there. But once it hit her, she needed that fall, and fast.

“I—I—” she managed to pant out.

“Yeah,” he breathed back, and increased his pace while finding her clit with his fingers. He thrusted in and out a few more times and expertly massaged her nub and that was it—she was gone, euphoria consuming her body.

Time had no meaning for a long while there, though she was vaguely aware of Killian coming with a shout of her name as she held onto him tightly. When the waves of release had finally receded, Killian was next to her on the mattress, lying on his side facing her, breathing heavily.

Despite the sweat on their bodies and the mess waiting to be cleaned, she threw her leg over his and rolled over to hold him tight, her hand coming to rest on his rear.

“That was amazing. Thank you,” she murmured, placing a tiny kiss on his nose.

“That’s putting it lightly,” he quipped back, still trying to catch his breath. “But...same.”

She snorted. “There you go again, being all basic with your ‘same’.”

He shrugged. “A wise woman once told me to own my basicness.”

“It’s a good thing you took her advice.”

“Aye, it is; though, if I’m allowed to confess, it eventually just became figuring out different ways to get her into my bed.”

Emma grinned. “Something tells me she’s not complaining...and probably learned a bit about herself along the way.”

“Oh?” His eyebrow arched in question.

She just nodded back. “Although, there’s one basic white girl thing you still haven’t done. And I’m kind of curious to see what it’d be like.”

“And what’s that?”

* * *

“You can’t be serious.”

“Says the guy who willingly wears lace panties.”

“Those are comfortable, and far less liable to attract bees.”

“Come on! You’ll be so pretty!”

Killian sighed. “Fine.”

He let her get to work, and when she was satisfied, she told him to smile and took a picture.

[ (original) ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.instagram.com%2Fp%2FBnCLWbIFMB0%2F&t=ZTkxYjIzYjAwZWU4MDQyYWY0OWYyOTg5MTg3MDI3Y2IzOTkwMjg5Yix0VUMxeGxmdQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AAIVVz7JVMiWjr3POJwmhzQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fspartanguard.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F181986125990%2Fcsjj-basic-ally-perfect&m=1)

Showing it to him, she said, “See? You’re perfect. Basically perfect.”

He tugged her to his lap, pulled one of the flowers out his hair, and stuck it behind her ear. “Only if you are, too.”

“I think I can live with that.”

He gave her a dimpled grin and kissed her cheek. “Now, darling, have you ever wanted to make love on a bed of flower petals?” Then he leaned into her ear, whispering conspiratorially. “Because I have.”

Their bed smelled like flowers for weeks.


End file.
